


Something Just Like This

by carolyncaves



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Asexual Character, Confessions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Ignis Scientia, asexual Gladio, autumn aesthetic date, cameos from Clarus and Iris, fancy parties, gratuitous descriptions of food and drink, pining disaster Ignis, there is also a frankly indulgent amount of champagne, there is some Mild Asexual Angst but don't worry, this whole fic is pretty indulgent tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolyncaves/pseuds/carolyncaves
Summary: Gladio asks Ignis to attend a gala as his plus-one, to deter mounting pressure from Clarus that he start dating. (Communication is not the Amicitias’ strong suit.)Ignis agrees, despite (because of?) his desperate, secret crush on Gladio. He’s already composing his epitaph.Here lies Ignis Scientia, dead of heart failure at twenty-one.





	Something Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gladnis Week 2018, Day 4: Fake Dating. Look, I don't know what happened. This isn’t even the prompt I was originally most excited about. But then I got an idea and … my hand slipped?
> 
> No beta, we die like writers. I was apparently having too much fun writing over-the-top fake dates and didn't leave myself enough time to wrestle the ending into proper submission. But here it is anyway :)

Ignis was reading through yet another tariff report in his cramped office at the Citadel when Gladio knocked on the open doorframe.

“Hey, Iggy. Got a minute?”

“Always,” Ignis said, which could have meant ‘always for a respected colleague’ or ‘always for someone as vital to Noct as his Shield’.

It didn’t, though. It meant ‘always for you, Gladio’, because Ignis had harbored a frankly pathetic affection for his counterpart for a very long while. Put plainly, he had a bit of a crush.

More than a bit, if he were entirely honest about it. Which he most emphatically was not.

Gladio shut the door and squeezed himself onto the single visitor’s chair in front of Ignis’ desk. He looked almost … embarrassed.

“What can I do for you?” Ignis prompted, when Gladio didn’t speak.

“Sorry,” Gladio said. “It’s, uh … I’ve come to ask you for a pretty weird favor. A personal favor. Borderline inappropriate.”

Ignis felt his stomach do a strange bit of acrobatic work at the words ‘personal’ and ‘inappropriate’. He thought he’d walled off those butterflies long ago, but apparently his defenses were not impregnable. He might have had a strange look on his face, because Gladio pressed on quickly.

“I know we’re not … but it involves me sharing a, kind of a secret. And in terms of people who could help me out, and people who I’d trust to keep something like this completely under wraps … you’re the only person I can ask.”

That was flattering. “Well, you’ve certainly piqued my interest,” Ignis said. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”

“The thing is … whether you say yes or no, this can’t leave this room, all right?”

“Gladio,” Ignis said, with a braveness he didn’t feel. Gladio’s snapped eyes up from his lap. “There’s no need to be nervous. Whatever it is, your secret is safe with me. And if I can assist you with whatever problem you’re having, of course I shall.”

Gladio’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yeah, okay. You know the ball this weekend, for the dowager’s birthday? I have to go – politics and important names, you know the drill. The favor is, I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me and pretend to be my date.”

The wall Ignis had built around his inconvenient crush on Gladio crumbled completely. “Well.”

“Let me explain. See my dad is really on my case lately about dating. Wondering why I’m not seeing anyone. But I … Six, this is so awkward. I’m not really into anybody, all right? Not girls, not guys. Not anybody.”

Despite the distracting sensation of a greatsword plunging through his heart at the words “not guys”, Ignis was starting to get the idea. “You’re not at all interested in dating,” he summarized.

“I’m not interested in sex, and I’m really not interested in getting felt up by an acquaintance at a formal event. But if I don’t bring my own date to this stupid party, my dad will set me up with someone. He’s got a list eleven deep, guys and girls and what have you, all nobility. Whoever it is, they’d spend the whole damn time trying to make a move on me because my family’s a big deal, and they’d be someone I’d have to play nice with because _their_ family’s a big deal. So I’d have to flirt back, or pretend to, and …”

“Say no more,” Ignis said. “I’d be happy to accompany you.” In the back of his mind, he was already composing his epitaph. _Here lies Ignis Scientia, dead of heart failure at twenty-one._

The undisguised relief on Gladio’s face went a long way toward loosening the knots in Ignis’ chest. “Thanks, Ignis. This is a load off, seriously. I’ll owe you one.”

“Not at all. It’s my pleasure to assist a, well, a friend in need.”

Gladio cracked his beautiful broad smile. “We are friends, huh? And you’re a damn good one, apparently.” He got to his feet and leaned across the cluttered desk to bump Ignis jovially on the shoulder. “I’ll text you the details. Let me know what color you decide to wear so I can match.”

Ignis huffed. “I suppose you’re also planning to get me a boutonniere?”

“Course I am. I’m not a barbarian. The whole point of this is to prove that Gladiolus Amicitia can get a date if he wants one. You’d better brace yourself, because I’m gonna be the best damn fake boyfriend in history.”

And with that, Gladio excused himself from the office, leaving Ignis dazed in his wake. “Wonderful,” he murmured in a somewhat strangled voice as he entered the gala into his schedule. When that was finished Ignis closed his phone, set it carefully to the side, and pressed his face into his hands. He resisted, barely, the urge to scream.

Then he started browsing through waistcoats on moogle. He had a perfectly serviceable one in green … but he couldn’t help but think Gladio would look stunning in gold.

\---------

He found a waistcoat in a satiny golden brocade. It arrived the day before the gala, and he had to bribe his tailor rather exorbitantly to convince him to rush the routine alterations. Ignis didn’t have anything else in his life to spend his money on, so he waved his card at the machine without a second thought.

On another day, that might have been a sobering thought. As it was, Ignis was too busy vibrating with anticipation.

The plan was to meet in the entrance hall of the Citadel and proceed to the ballroom together. Ignis arrived obscenely early and loitered outside in the courtyard until ten minutes before their designated meeting time. Then he proceeded up the towering steps and into the opulent foyer.

Ignis spent most of his waking hours at the Citadel, but the majority of his duties were performed in the backstage areas of the palace, which ranged in style from industrial to upscale-corporate as one ascended the structure. The public-facing spaces, the throne room and the ballrooms and the grand dining halls and the formal parlors, still struck Ignis with their grandeur.

Tonight was no exception, and Ignis was so intently admiring the ornate details of the hall that he didn’t notice Gladio until he was right in front of him.

Then he had something even more breathtaking to admire.

Formal suits were almost universally becoming if they were tailored well, and Gladio’s was. It accentuated his height, his breadth, his obvious strength. His pocket square was gold, in coordination with Ignis’ attire. His often-messy hair was sleeked back and shone beautifully in the lamplight. In short, Gladio looked stunning.

Ignis felt a swift sudden panic. He wasn’t capable of this. Of performing his agreed-upon role while maintaining the appropriate distance. This was, he saw with disorienting clarity, a catastrophic failure of judgement on his part. A terrible mistake.

Then Gladio smiled as he began wrestling the boutonniere he’d brought out of its plastic packaging, and Ignis was lost.

“You look great,” Gladio said. “That vest is incredible.” He tossed the florist’s box into the trash can Ignis had been lurking beside and stepped deep into Ignis’ personal space.

Ignis caught the scent of Gladio’s cologne as he slipped the boutonniere through the buttonhole of his lapel. His heart thrummed feather-light in his chest. “You look quite nice yourself, and that’s a beautiful flower. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Gladio gave Ignis’ lapel a soft tug to straighten it and smoothed his hand across his chest before stepping it away. Both motions left phantom echoes on Ignis’ body. “Told you I knew how to treat a date.”

“I never doubted you.” Ignis said. “Much.”

“Bastard,” Gladio said amiably. “Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

The ballroom was dazzling, as it generally was on such occasions, already resonant with the clamor of celebration. The floor was a sea of colorful gowns and elegant suits with smart-uniformed waitstaff moving among them. In the center of the room, making good use of the skillful live music, was a circular flow of dancers. Ignis took a moment to simply breathe, to adjust to the revelrous atmosphere.

A moment cut short by Lord Clarus Amicitia, Shield of the King and the reason Ignis was present at Gladio’s side in the first place. He cut an imposing figure dressed in the full regalia of his office, and he was staring at Ignis much the same way one might look at King Regis if His Majesty were dressed in pajamas in a public grocery store: as though the individual pieces made sense, but their arrangement was incomprehensible.

“Dad,” Gladio said.

“Gladio. Well-dressed, as always.” He was still looking at Ignis.

Gladio stood rigidly at attention. He caught Ignis’ hand, a subtle motion that did not escape his father’s attention. The show was on.

“You’re dating Ignis Scientia,” Lord Amicitia said, finally releasing Ignis from his scrutiny. He dragged his eyes to his son and fixed them there.

“Surprised?” Gladio asked, with a hint of bite.

“When you said you were seeing _someone_ , it made me think …”

“There were guys on that list of yours, weren’t there?”

Lord Amicitia’s eyes widened slightly in alarm. “Yes, of course. It’s fine,” he said, gesturing at the two of them as a unit. “It’s more than fine. It’s _good_. I just … didn’t realize it was someone I knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gladio clenched his jaw. “Now you know. You happy?”

“Of course I’m happy,” Lord Amicitia said emphatically. “He’s an excellent choice. A smart match.”

Gladio was by that point squeezing Ignis’ hand very tightly. The music changed, giving Ignis an idea. “Thank you, sir,” he said, letting his eyes flick to the dance floor. “If it wouldn’t be terribly rude …”

“No, no, I’ve kept you two long enough. Go enjoy yourselves.” He thumped Gladio on the shoulder as he departed.

Gladio continued to glower at the space his father had vacated, but he followed when Ignis led him in the direction of the dance floor. “Smooth,” he finally said, as they took their places.

Gladio’s hand was strong on his shoulder. They stood close, comfortably intimate, and the nearness set Ignis’ skin on fire. He wondered what he would do if his glasses began to fog over. “That’s what I’m here for. I offer seamless parent-dodging stratagems in addition to my technical abilities in ballroom dancing and innocuous small-talk.”

Gladio guided them into the circular flow of dancers, a smile playing at his face. “You even threw in the arm-candy package for free.”

“Oh, no. That’s worth my weight in champagne.”

Gladio guffawed. “Good thing it’s on the house. I’ll be sure to get you your first installment after this number’s up.”

“There’s no rush. Accruing interest on that bill would hardly be undesirable.”

They were both practiced dancers and they moved around the floor in perfect step, surrounded by other couples Ignis didn’t see. He was too absorbed in the roughness of Gladio’s hand in his own.

“Your father thinks we’re dating,” Ignis said carefully.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “Isn’t that … what we’re pretending to do?”

That wasn’t quite how he’d understood it, but perhaps Ignis’ grasp on reality was wearing thin. It wouldn’t surprise him to learn this entire affair was some kind of stress-induced delusion. “It’s all right, truly. But I believe you asked me to come with you as your date. That’s not quite the same thing as ‘dating’, in an ongoing sense.”

Gladio’s smile slipped. “Right,” he said, with far more uncertainty than Ignis was accustomed to hearing in his voice. “Maybe I didn’t explain it very well. When my dad threatened me with the list I got pretty mad and told him I was already seeing someone. That’s why I couldn’t show up alone.”

“So this arrangement will involve more than just the one evening?”

Gladio turned Ignis almost all the way around the dance floor before he replied, staring steadily over his head the entire way. “You’re doing me a huge favor already, being here tonight. I couldn’t ask you for more. But … if you’re up for it, it’d keep him off my back.” He broke into a wry grin. “If you decide you want out, you could always throw a drink in my face.”

Ignis smiled despite himself. “Tempting, but we do have your reputation to consider. I’m at your service, for as long as you need me.”

“Thanks, Iggy. That’s a big help.” Gladio laughed. “Be careful what you promise, though. The way my dad’s talking, he won’t be satisfied until I’m married with two point five kids.”

As if Ignis’ heart wasn’t under enough strain already, he now had a new and vivid fantasy to strangle.

The music shifted again, a little faster than was comfortable, and they spun to a halt at the edge of the floor.

“How about that champagne?” Gladio offered.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Ignis turned to look for a waiter, and Gladio’s hand came to rest firmly at the small of his back. Ignis jumped in surprise.

“This all right?” Gladio asked. “Just figured …”

“Perfectly all right,” Ignis said. “I’m just a bit tense. Hence the champagne.”

Gladio guided him through the lively ballroom, that hand a constantly distracting touch. “Dunno what you’re tense about,” he said in Ignis’ ear. “I’m the one with the problem.”

“I’m always tense. That’s my dark secret.” Well, one of his dark secrets. Another was currently spawning butterflies on the inside of his stomach.

“Sounds rough.” Gladio released Ignis to lift two flutes of champagne off a passing tray. “Guess that’s my mission then, as your date. Get you un-tense.”

“You mean ‘relaxed’.”

“I mean business.” Gladio passed Ignis a flute. “Bottoms up.”

“Really now …”

Gladio clinked his glass against Ignis’ and lifted it near his lips. He watched Ignis expectantly.

“Oh, very well.” Ignis tilted the glass back. The sweet effervescence washed across his tongue, chased by the sharp sting of alcohol. He did as instructed and drained the glass. A heady flush had already begun to bloom in his stomach by the time he was through.

He lowered the flute, slightly proud of himself for rising to the challenge, only to find Gladio watching him with undisguised amusement. His own glass was still full.

Ignis felt the strange lurch of betrayal. He opened his mouth, but before he could muster a rebuke Gladio was plucking the empty flute out of his fingers and replacing it with his own.

This gave Ignis the time to find his tongue. “What are you …”

“That was a good start,” Gladio interrupted. “But if you’re really gonna drink your weight in champagne, you’ll need to pick up the pace.”

By that point the alcohol had reached Ignis’ head like a high-speed train, and any hope he’d harbored of mustering an intelligent response evaporated. So he simply laughed.

Gladio grinned, nudging Ignis with his elbow. “Score one for me. You’ll be putty in my hands before you know it.”

_You don’t need champagne for that_ , he thought, and he had to put the fresh glass to his mouth and take a sip to keep the sentiment inside him where it belonged.

“I’m driving out to the big house later,” Gladio was saying, referring to the Amicitia estate located on the most affluent edge of Insomnia. “Figured I could drop you off on the way by. That way you can let loose and not have to worry about walking home.”

“That’s very kind, but it’s really not necessary. I hardly plan to go off the deep end. This is a dignified event.”

“Sure,” Gladio said. “But with me here to keep an eye on you, you can … you know, indulge a little. I’ll make sure you don’t do anything unworthy of your image.”

“Gladio …”

“Ignis,” Gladio said seriously. “I want you to just _have fun_.”

Ignis couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. The realization was mildly disturbing. “Why?”

Gladio’s face flickered through several emotions before it landed on an easy smirk. “Because I’m not drinking, so I have to live vicariously through you.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Ignis took another conservative sip. He’d have another glass or two, over the course of the evening. Enough for Gladio to tease him over, but not so much that he’d truly lose his veneer.

Several hours later, Ignis was halfway through his sixth glass of champagne. Gladio was persuasive when he wanted to be. Which was another way of saying Ignis lacked even the slightest inclination to tell him no.

The lights of the crystal chandeliers danced brightly in Gladio’s eyes when he laughed, which he did often – and perhaps Ignis was making a fool of himself, but he adored the mirth in Gladio’s deep voice and didn’t care how he managed to cause it. They mingled with the guests, and they extended their felicitations to the wizened dowager reclining in her seat of honor at the far end of the ballroom, and they danced quite a lot. The music was mostly light and airy, but towards the end of the evening the tempo slowed and the dancers drew closer to their partners and a wiser Ignis would have suggested they stop.

Instead, he let Gladio pull him in. He put his arms around Gladio’s neck. He prayed to the Astrals that the champagne would not rob him of the memory of Gladio’s warm breath on his ear.

It was like a fairytale. Like someone had reached into the corners of his mind and made his deepest dreams real.

Two songs later, Ignis had to beg Gladio to stop and let him sit down for a moment lest the dizziness in his head overtake him. Luckily Gladio took the interruption in good humor, and also took the unfinished flute of champagne from Ignis’ hand without argument. “Guess we’ve maxed out on fun.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said, sinking into one of the plush chairs lining the walls off jelly-like legs. “Any further efforts at this point would likely have the opposite effect.”

“Perfect timing. Party’s winding down anyway.”

Ignis couldn’t remember beginning to list in his seat, but Gladio’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, tilting him back toward the vertical. Gladio chuckled.

“You did this,” Ignis accused.

“Not my fault you’re a lightweight.”

Ignis hardly thought that was fair, but he wasn’t in any sort of state to argue, so Gladio won by default. He smiled like he knew it. “Catch your breath and we’ll go get the car.”

They filtered back through the entrance hall and out the grand front doors of the Citadel. Gladio presented his ticket at the valet stand. They were far from the only guests preparing to depart, so they stood on the steps waiting for Gladio’s car to be brought around. The autumn night air was cool against Ignis’ flushed skin, and he had to lean a bit embarrassingly against Gladio to keep from swaying. Gladio kept an arm around him, as he had all night. If he minded it, he concealed it well.

Lord Amicitia was there as well, a statue amongst the milling ex-partygoers, baldly looking in their direction.

Ignis lay his head on Gladio’s shoulder, pressing closer to him. “Apologies,” he murmured. “I assure you I’m not so sozzled I can’t stay awake. Your father is watching us.”

Gladio’s other hand settled in the crook of Ignis’ neck. Holding him. If Ignis hadn’t had the support of his chest, the combination of the lightness of his head and the thrill of Gladio’s touch might have sent him to the ground. “Don’t apologize,” Gladio rumbled. “I know you don’t actually want to be here.”

Ignis had never wanted anything more, and the reminder that it wasn’t real pulled something tight in his chest.

“I’ve always just played it off,” Gladio said. “Like I’m too busy at work, being the Shield, training day and night. He used to buy it, smile and commiserate. Now it’s changed. Now he pushes back, says hey, you’re twenty-two now, you’re a grown man, what’re you waiting for, do you want die old and alone? Like I’m not already worried about that.”

That seemed a terrible thing to say to one’s child. “Do you have any idea what brought on such a shift?”

A brief pause. “He was twenty-two when he met my mom. I guess before he figured there was still time for me to get it together. Now I’m falling behind.”

Ignis studied the neatly creased collar of Gladio’s dress shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, _I’m_ sorry for dragging you into it. I don’t really know anything about it, but I bet this whole thing is … frustrating for you.”

Ignis tried to figure out what Gladio meant. “Why would your father’s scrutiny be frustrating for me?”

“No, not that. I mean … me being all over you, when it’s not gonna go anywhere.”

Ah. “It’s not at all frustrating,” he said. And it wasn’t, not for the reasons Gladio assumed. Ignis was not a horny teenager anymore. It took more than a hug to get him excited. “Touch isn’t merely a prelude to other things. Simple human contact holds its own inherent value. At least … it does for me.”

Gladio didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, there was a twist of humor in his voice. “You telling me you don’t get enough human contact, Ignis?”

“Even in my current state, I have the presence of mind not to answer that,” Ignis vollied.

“We’re up,” Gladio said, rousing Ignis off his shoulder. The valet pulled Gladio’s car to a halt at the bottom of the tall staircase.

“Wonderful. All I have to do is reach the car without tumbling down the steps.” It seemed a more daunting challenge than it rightfully should have.

Gladio laughed. “Funny as that might be, we do have your reputation to consider,” he said, echoing Ignis’ earlier remark. “Don’t worry. I told you I’d watch out for you.”

Gladio was, of course, true to his word. He ferried Ignis safely down the staircase and into the passenger seat before driving out of the pool of frivolity spilling from the Citadel and into the still, lamplit streets of the heart of Insomnia. Ignis spent the short ride with a smile on his face, basking in the afterglow of the party and the contented silence of Gladio’s presence.

It was only when Gladio dropped Ignis off in front of his building and Ignis let himself into his dark, empty apartment that he felt the hollow drop of disappointment. The ball was over, and his magical evening had turned back into a pumpkin. Much like a fairytale, it was all make-believe.

Ignis hung the gold waistcoat in the back of his closet where he wouldn’t see it in passing.

\---------

He took it out again for the next state dinner, and again after that for a councilor’s retirement party, and each time he wore it for Gladio and danced with Gladio and mingled for hours with Gladio’s hand carefully at the small of his back Ignis got a little better at holding onto the bright feeling their evenings together produced in his chest.

Perhaps it was make-believe, but that didn’t mean Ignis shouldn’t enjoy it. He was doing Gladio a favor. What was so wrong with taking a little pleasure in it along the way?

“Ignis!” Iris cried, running up to him at a cocktail reception celebrating a new ambassador’s appointment some six weeks into their arrangement. “You look great! I mean, you always look great, that vest is gorgeous. But.”

“Thank you,” Ignis said. “You look very beautiful yourself.” Her dress had a moogle patch affixed to the strap, which Ignis was fairly certain was an after-market modification, but it suited her wonderfully.

“And what about me?” Gladio grumbled. Ignis almost replied without thinking, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress his answer. Gladio was talking to Iris.

“You look pretty great, too,” Iris said off-handedly. “Listen, how come I only see you guys together at these fancy parties?”

Gladio’s hand squeezed almost imperceptibly at his waist. “Huh?”

“Like, you never go out on the weekends or anything, Gladdy. And your Insomnigram feed is just pictures of swords. I mean, maybe you’re just keeping it on the DL, but like … you do go on dates, right? Romantic stuff with just the two of you?”

Gladio was tense at Ignis’ side. “What’s it to you?”

“It just so happens I like your super-hot boyfriend and I want to make sure you don’t lose him,” Iris pouted, hands on her hips. “Cuz if you treat him like a trophy date you only bring out for special events, he’s not gonna stick around.”

Ignis wanted to come to Gladio’s defense, but he couldn’t lie unless Gladio took the lead. He didn’t want to make the situation any more difficult than it already was by stumbling into a thicket. “There’s no need to make a fuss,” he said diplomatically. “Gladio and I …”

“Course we go on dates,” Gladio cut in. “We’ve been keeping it off the radar because … uh …”

“It’s okay, Gladdy,” Iris said, instantly softening. “I know you’re kinda shy about the dating stuff.” She smiled up at Ignis. “If Ignis is willing to put up with your weirdness, he’s definitely a keeper.”

Ignis smiled back. “Trust me, Gladio is the one who’s putting up with me.” A statement truer than she could know.

At this, Iris was entirely placated, and flounced off happily to find an hors d’oeuvre. But Gladio’s face was stormy.

Ignis shifted to face him and rested a hand gently on his side. “It’s all right,” he began. “That was …” Ignis sighed. “Gladio. You know … that putting up with you is no great hardship?”

Gladio sighed. Then he snorted and gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Yeah, right. You say that now, but wait till we go on our first real fake date.”

They scheduled it for that weekend, and the four days in the interim were some of the longest of Ignis’ life.

\---------

Gladio refused to tell Ignis where he planned to take him. He would only reveal that it was within walking distance of Ignis’ apartment and that he should “come hungry”. So Ignis forewent breakfast, wrapped a thick scarf around his neck against the late autumn chill, and stepped out under a grey sky when Gladio texted from the sidewalk in front of his building at half past eleven.

“Perhaps I should get an umbrella,” Ignis said.

“We should be good, it’s not supposed to rain until later,” Gladio said. He was already starting down the sidewalk, leaving Ignis no choice but to follow him.

He felt a slight itch at going out unprepared, but he let the cold air wash it from his body. Even if worst came to worst, a little rain wouldn’t hurt them.

Gladio was dressed in dark jeans and a bomber jacket with a furred collar. It was, as so many things were on Gladio, a good look. The prospect of spending the next hour or so in his exclusive company chased the last trace of worry from Ignis’ chest.

“Am I now permitted to ask where we’re going?”

“I mean, it’s not really anything special,” Gladio said. “Hope I didn’t build it up too much. It’s just a restaurant.”

Gladio seemed a little tense. Uncertain, or reluctant, or something else Ignis couldn’t name. Perhaps he was anxious about Ignis’ reaction to his plans – in which case his worry was entirely in vain. Ignis would be happy to eat at the greasiest hole-in-the-wall establishment with Gladio for company.

Or, he remembered with ruthless honesty, perhaps Gladio was simply dreading this excursion. Because Gladio did not actually want to be here.

“I hope this outing isn’t a strain on your schedule,” Ignis said. “If you need … or, if you’d rather …”

“Ignis.” Gladio stopped walking. He made a careful examination of Ignis’ face. Then he smirked.  “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Never met a brunch I didn’t like.” He hooked his arm through Ignis’, tugging him along.

For verisimilitude, Ignis tried to remind himself. For warmth on a brisk day. Nothing more.

The restaurant was fashionable and new. With Ignis’ blessing, Gladio had them seated on the outdoor patio. It had been fitted with heat lamps that rendered the atmosphere cozy instead of cold, and afforded the opportunity to watch the activity of Insomnia go by.

“This place is supposed to have great food,” Gladio said. “You know, fresh, local, organic, delicious. And I hear they make a mean mimosa.”

“It’s _that_ sort of brunch, then.”

“Definitely.”

Gladio ordered a round of drinks and then they both turned their attention to the selection. Half the menu made Ignis’ mouth water, but he settled on a crab omelet. Their waitress brought their mimosas and took their orders, and then they were left alone.

Ignis took an experimental sip of his drink – champagne and blood orange with a splash of pomegranate. It was sweet and fresh, with a hint of tartness that lingered on Ignis’ tongue. “Your source was correct, I think.”

“My source was a bunch of five-star reviews on Kweh,” Gladio said. “Spent a while trying to pick the right place. I know you’re into food and I didn’t want you to have to suffer through a mediocre meal.” Gladio took another pull of his mimosa. “But yeah, damn. These could be dangerous.”

Ignis clenched the stem of his glass. The thought of Gladio spending his free time combing through restaurants, believing he had to be careful to _entertain_ Ignis, was disagreeable. “I hope you didn’t feel as though you had to go out of your way to cater to me. I would hate to think you went to any trouble on my account, given the situation. I …”

“It wasn’t any _trouble_ ,” Gladio said. “Relax, Ignis. You get so worked up about everything.”

Ignis felt something like embarrassment pool in his stomach. He knew he was tightly wound and often ridiculous, but hearing it in such plain terms from Gladio himself smarted. “I apologize. I’m afraid that underneath everything I’m a bit silly. One of the perils of getting to know me personally. I’ll try not to be entirely insufferable.”

“Ignis.” Gladio reached across the table and lay his hand over Ignis’. “You’re not silly. And you’re not … _insufferable_. I mean, you’re a nut and you’re going to give yourself a coronary by the time you’re thirty, but … it just means you care, a lot, about everything.”

Ignis couldn’t support the weight of Gladio’s gaze, so he looked down at the table. At Gladio’s hand, wrapped over his own. He did care, quite a lot, about one thing in particular. The one thing he shouldn’t. “You’re kind,” he said at last. “I hardly meant to bring down the mood. I’m aware you’re here under duress, and I have no wish to make the situation any more onerous for you than it needs to be.”

Gladio tugged his hand across the table, so they were met in the middle. “It’s not … look, if this was some miserable chore I could always just tell my dad to fuck off. Yeah, I’d pay for it, but I could. But spending time with you … there are worse ways to kill an afternoon.”

Ignis wanted to believe that was true. And yet. “Are there? You seem … preoccupied. You have since you picked me up.”

It was Gladio’s turn to away. “It’s not actually your problem.”

“Neither are my insecurities yours, but that hardly stopped you from reassuring me.” Finally, Ignis worked up the courage to grip Gladio’s fingers in his own. A gesture of friendly solidarity. Nothing more.

Gladio looked down at their hands in surprise, as if he’d forgotten they were touching. Ignis wondered briefly if he’d made a mistake somewhere along the way, but Gladio squeezed in return. “I guess it’s been bugging me, what Iris said. That I wasn’t gonna be able to keep your attention. She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about and she hit the nail right on the damn head. I’m missing the one thing that everyone else seems to think is most important. Realistically, who’s going to put up with that?”

“Gladio … all I can say is, if someone would be merely putting up with you, they’d be a poor match. Whatever you’re looking for in a companion, you ought to find someone who’s looking for you in return.”

“Guess I’d better adopt a dog, then,” Gladio said, but he was smirking as he drank his champagne. “Or twelve.”

“I hardly think the situation is that dire,” Ignis replied, and by the mercy of the Six the waitress arrived with their meals before he could be called on to elaborate on that comment. Gladio released his hand, and Ignis tried not to mourn its loss by focusing on his meal.

His omelet looked incredible, piled high with flaked crab. His fork slid through cleanly – the egg was cooked to perfection, not that that was terribly difficult – and the first bite was as heavenly as he’d dared to hope. The flavor of the crab was delicate, the egg smooth and light. A triumph. Perhaps he could reproduce the dish at home.

Across the table, Gladio seemed to be having a quasi-religious experience with his steak and eggs benedict. “Mmpf, what is in this sauce?”

“Butter,” Ignis replied.

Gladio laughed. “That’ll do it.”

They chatted while they ate. Talk of food led to talk of Ignis’ favorite recipes … and then Gladio cajoled him into recounting his most notable failures. The grandest of which, Ignis eventually admitted, was the time an entire batch of molten chocolate cakes collapsed one by one coming out of their ramekins while King Regis himself waited in the next room, having dropped by Noctis’ quarters for a surprise visit.

“Did you cry?” Gladio asked with a crooked smile.

“I was fourteen years old,” Ignis said, with mock-offense. “My lip barely trembled as I begged forgiveness for such a grave dishonor from my employer His Majesty the King of Lucis himself.”

Gladio lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“Oh, I cried later, of course. I burst into tears the moment I got back to my own rooms.”

Gladio laughed, that deep hearty laugh that set Ignis’ heart aglow.

“I told you I was rather silly,” Ignis said. “I’ve actually never made molten cakes since, out of a deep-seated aversion to the memory.”

“You should make ‘em for me sometime,” Gladio said. “If they work, then great, and if they collapse I’ll slurp them up like an idiot and you can laugh at me. Either way you’ll have a better memory to think of.” Gladio’s smile faltered for a moment. “I’m just yakking, of course, I’m not actually asking you to …”

“That would be fun,” Ignis interrupted. “If you meant it in earnest.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, “I did.” He drained the remainder of his mimosa in two swallows.

At some point the waitress brought them a second round, and Ignis made good work of his. By the time they were finished eating, Ignis was feeling a little giddy. He wasn’t used to drinking so early in the day. It was jarring when, in a moment of peaceful silence, Gladio said, “Damn!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot to Insomnigram the food.” Gladio slumped onto his hand. “Which was the whole damn point of doing this in the first place.”

“You could take a shot of the cleaned plates. Or,” he added quickly, before his flash of effervescent courage could desert him, “I know a coffee shop near here that crafts delicious seasonal drinks. We could … go there for dessert.”

Gladio gave him an unquantifiable look out of the corner of his eye.

“Only if you wish, of course,” Ignis said. “I’m sure you have …”

“Sounds great,” Gladio said. “Let me just get the check.”

“I assume we’ll split the bill,” Ignis said, reaching for his wallet.

“No way. Gladiolus Amicitia doesn’t let his date split the bill.”

“Gladio …”

“Seriously, I want to pay. You’re doing me a big favor being here. You’ve showed up to all my dumb parties like clockwork. And in the bigger scheme of things, you’re … taking yourself off the market for me. Buying you lunch is the least I can do.”

The waitress arrived then and Gladio busied himself with settling the tab, so Ignis could do nothing but swallow his ever-growing guilt at taking his own unwarranted enjoyment in this arrangement. The topic fell by the wayside, but lingered in Ignis’ mind as they put on their coats and stepped out into the cold.

The coffee shop was just around the corner, but the wind had picked up and the overcast sky had darkened. The shop was crowded and warm enough that the windows were fogged over. On another day it might have felt stuffy, but it was such a welcome respite from the weather that Ignis didn’t even begrudge the long line.

Gladio gazed up at the menu. “Anything you recommend?”

“I’m extremely partial to the salted caramel mocha. It’s a bit decadent, to be honest, but … I look forward to it every year.”

“Really?” Gladio’s mouth stretched into a slow smile. “That’s cute.”

Ignis’ face burned in a manner that had nothing to do with the toasty temperature of the shop. He scrutinized a rack of overpriced consumables until it subsided.

When they got to the front, Ignis ordered his drink and motioned for Gladio to do the same.

“Make that two,” he said.

The barista rang them up together, and Ignis felt a ridiculous surge of pride to be seen in public with Gladio. For his looks, and his smile, and his manner. He passed his card to the barista before Gladio could stop him.

“It’s only fair,” Ignis reasoned, and Gladio surrendered amicably.

Drinks in hand, they surveyed the café, but on a chilly weekend afternoon there wasn’t a single seat available.

“C’mon, the coffee’ll keep us warm,” Gladio said, guiding Ignis toward the door with a hand on his back.

“We can take a photograph in front of the name of the shop,” Ignis suggested. The wind pulled at his scarf as they emerged onto the street.

“Oh yeah, the picture. Good thing you’re here. Slipped my mind again.” Gladio pulled out his phone. “Guess I’m not very good at this fake shit.”

Perhaps it was the second mimosa, or the heady thrill of company, or the sustained exposure to Gladio’s disorienting presence … but a catastrophic set of words danced on the tip of Ignis tongue. _Then perhaps we should forget ‘fake’. My feelings for you are anything but._ Ignis put his coffee to his mouth to prevent them from escaping.

The cool slide of whipped cream met the hot sweet saltiness of the mocha on his tongue, the taste of fall. Ignis would never grow tired of salted caramel.

“Say cheese,” Gladio said, leaning in beside Ignis, drink raised.

Ignis smiled just as the shutter noise went off. Gladio straightened. “Nice one. Cool with you?” He tilted the phone toward Ignis, but he was too lightheaded to really appraise the photo, so he simply nodded.

“Great, give me one sec to pop this up there so the location tag is right.” He tapped at his phone with one hand, tasting his drink with the other. “Damn, Iggy, this is fantastic. Great recommendation.”

“The baristas here are excellent,” Ignis demurred.

Gladio scowled at his screen for a moment before pressing something decisively. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “All right. I guess let’s walk?”

They turned toward Ignis’ apartment, because of course their outing was at an end now that they’d contributed photographic evidence to the charade … but Gladio didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. Ignis strolled at his pace. He wondered if Gladio was taking his time to spare Ignis’ feelings, so it didn’t seem as though he only wanted him there as a prop in his photograph.

That _was_ all Gladio wanted him for, his last handful of unintoxicated brain cells reminded him. Gladio was not interested in dating. Ignis had agreed to be here to help him avoid precisely that activity.

A cool dot struck Ignis’ cheek. The beginnings of rain.

Perhaps Ignis should have ordered an extra shot of espresso. Or three. The additional caffeine might have given him the mental faculties to keep his mouth shut. Instead he said, “I wanted to address your earlier comment, about my taking myself off the market. I …”

“I shouldn’t’ve assumed that,” Gladio cut in. “As soon as I said it, I- We never discussed that, and it’s way too much to ask, and as long as you’re being discreet … Not that you even have to be, obviously. Hey, if people think you’re cheating on me maybe it’ll make it easier down the line when …”

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” Ignis said, before immediately kicking himself over his choice of words. He wasn’t seeing anyone, full stop. “And of course I wouldn’t, if it would reflect poorly on you. I wanted to tell you I don’t really date. I haven’t the time, and even if I did … But that’s neither here nor there. I simply didn’t want to leave you feeling as though you’re … depriving me of anything.” And because Ignis was extremely silly, despite Gladio’s objections to the contrary, he said one more ridiculous thing. “I’ve actually had more fun not-dating you than I have in my entire romantic life prior.”

Gladio chewed on his lip. “Ignis …”

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the sprinkle grew into an earnest rain.

“Shit, c’mon,” Gladio said, and then they were running through the streets of Insomnia with their half-empty espresso drinks, fleeing the intensifying downpour. Ignis’ apartment was only three blocks away, but by the time they reached his building they were well soaked.

They were both a little breathless from the run. Gladio didn’t say anything, which made Ignis think he’d strayed far over the line. But Gladio escorted Ignis up the elevator and all the way to his apartment door, which made him think precisely the opposite.

Ignis held his keys in his hands. He should just go inside, let the moment end … but he didn’t. The air between them wasn’t clear, and he wanted it to be.

Gladio hovered beside him. “Ignis. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. Whether you’re passing up a million hot dates or not. I, uh … I’m glad if you’re at least having a good time.”

Ignis looked up into Gladio’s amber eyes, his heart dancing against his ribs. “I am. Having a wonderful time, that is.” Then Ignis turned back to his keys, picking out the correct one in earnest. “Do you want to … step inside? Dry off?”

He took long enough to answer that Ignis got his door open before he replied. “Nah, not today. I gotta get to the Citadel. Run some drills, work off that hollandaise.” He didn’t seem offended by the offer, though. He seemed … content.

“Very well,” Ignis said with a smile. “Off you go.”

Gladio smiled back before making his way toward the elevator. “Besides,” he called cheerfully over his shoulder, “I can’t let you invite me into your apartment on our first date. People’ll think I’m easy.”

A charge ran through Ignis as he watched Gladio summon the elevator and step inside. A charge he couldn’t contain. “Gladio … you're far from easy.”

Gladio paused in the elevator, reaching for the buttons. A series of expressions passed over his face, each too quick to identify. As though he wasn’t sure that was a compliment, but he wasn’t sure it wasn’t either. Then he pressed something on the control panel, and the elevator doors slid shut.

Ignis ducked inside his apartment, damp clothes clinging to hot skin, and tried to put his feelings back in their appropriate boxes. Cardboard had an unfortunate habit of disintegrating in the rain.

That evening he pulled up Gladio's Insomnigram. The photo of the two of them stared at him from the top of Gladio’s timeline. Ignis’ cheeks were regrettably pink, but with the scarf he was wearing that could be reasonably attributed to the weather. And Gladio ... His jacket suited him well, and his smile reached his eyes. They looked good together, Ignis allowed himself to think precisely once.

He saved a copy to a hidden corner of his phone, so that if Gladio ever took it down, if he chose to purge the evidence of this non-thing from his life once it was over, Ignis would be able to revisit the memory himself.

\---------

>>rdy to go all the way?

The text from Gladio, received in the middle of a frankly interminable meeting about crop production, set Ignis’ panic response alight. He stared at it, desperately trying to parse what it could mean.

>>im sleeping on ur couch tonite and doing the walk of shame past my dad in the am

>>if that’s ok

Ah. That made some semblance of sense. Ignis corralled his pulse back into working order and composed a reply.

<<Certainly, shall I expect you for dinner?

>>nah ill be late. training

<<Understood. I’ll see you later

Ignis set his phone down on the conference table and tried to devise the equivalent of a cold shower for his unruly heart.

\---------

Ignis made himself a double batch of chicken and rice for dinner and left the excess on the stove. This was calculated so that any offer of food to Gladio would be casual – he could accept or decline without feeling as though Ignis had gone to any serious effort on his part.

It was indeed late when he arrived, past eleven. Ignis was reviewing trade reports in his pajamas when there was a knock at his door.

“Hey, Ignis,” Gladio said, stepping inside. He looked Ignis over. “Hope you’re not sitting up waiting for me.”

Gladio was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair was damp from the shower. In the close quarters of the entryway, Ignis could smell his soap. He looked … not soft, exactly, but something near it. Something pleasant.

“Not at all,” Ignis replied. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

Gladio dropped his workout bag by the door and walked over to collapse onto the sofa. He grabbed one of the papers spread out on the coffee table and skimmed it, shaking his head as he slouched back against the cushions. “It’s Friday night, Iggy. What the heck are you working on this stuff for?”

“You were working late,” Ignis pointed out. He hovered near the arm of the sofa, waiting for an opening.

“I spar with Cor once a month. Pretty sure you’re nose-deep in this stuff 24/7.”

“The business of the realm never ceases.” Ignis ignored Gladio’s eye-roll. “Have you eaten?” He’d decided on a soft approach. He didn’t want to appear overinterested.

“I’m all right. Grabbed a bite in the canteen earlier. I’m not gonna swoop in here and eat you out of house and home.”

“It’s no imposition. I made chicken and rice earlier and the leftovers are still out on the stove.”

“Well, sure, if it’s really no trouble.”

“None at all.” Ignis captured the thrill of victory tight in his chest and stepped into the kitchen to fix Gladio a bowl.

When he returned, Gladio took it with a grateful smile. Ignis hesitated briefly before lowering himself onto the front edge of the sofa. He started gathering up his papers.

“Mmph, s’delicious,” Gladio said through a mouthful of rice.

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_.” A swallow. “So did you make this specifically so you’d have something to offer me?”

Ignis froze. “I, er, I hardly …”

Gladio laughed. “Six, Iggy, relax. And lean back, would you? You don’t have to have to be on tenterhooks, it’s your own damn living room.”

Ignis slowly sank back into the corner of the sofa. “I did choose that dish knowing there would be food to spare. I figured you might be hungry. I hope it isn’t too …” Ignis didn’t know how to say what he meant. Not without saying everything.

“Too nice?” Gladio looked bemused. “You’re a funny guy.”

Somehow that unwound Ignis another quarter turn. “Yes, well. As we’ve established, overthinking things is something of a knack of mine.”

“Probably comes from having a job where you have to think about literally everything,” Gladio said genially between bites of rice.

“It can’t help,” Ignis conceded.

They sat in comfortable silence as Gladio ate. Ignis relaxed further into the cushions of his couch with each exhale. With Gladio here, close and jovial at the end of a long day, he felt almost at ease. He let his eyes slip shut.

The next thing he knew, Gladio’s hand was on his arm. “Hmm?” he said blearily.

“You should go to bed,” Gladio was saying. His bowl was on the table, empty. “Just grab me a blanket first and I’ll be good.”

Gladio was correct. Ignis ought to retreat to his bedroom and leave everything well enough alone until morning. But Gladio’s hand was still on his arm, and Ignis lacked the willpower to resist such wonderful torment.

“Gladio, you’re six-feet six. I’d be a poor host if I stuck you on the sofa. You’re welcome to the bed.”

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your own bed.”

“It’s a queen mattress. There's plenty of room for two.”

Gladio stared at him for a long moment before he yielded.

Ignis’ statement, though generally true, turned out to be inaccurate. It failed to take into account that Gladio was twice the size of a normal human and Ignis was painfully in love with him. And so, a scant ten minutes later, Ignis lay on the extreme edge of one side of the bed feeling more awake than he ever had in his life while Gladio sprawled on his stomach on the other.

“Mm, your bed is awesome,” Gladio said, mercifully unaware of Ignis’ suffering. “I really was just gonna sleep on your couch, but damn. This mattress is like a cloud.”

“I quite agree. It’s one of my prized possessions.” Ignis slept alone, always, and he had to take comfort where he could get it. He certainly didn’t say that aloud, though. Instead, he used the psychological safety of the darkened bedroom to ask something he’d been wondering about all day. “What brought this on?”

“Huh?”

“Staying the night,” Ignis said. “Was there a catalyst, or is this simply … the progression of our relationship?” Our fake relationship, Ignis reminded himself firmly. Our non-relationship.

“It was my dad,” Gladio said. “Started pestering me about you. Us. Are we serious, is it going well, is there a reason I haven’t stayed the night at your place, of course you’d be welcome at ours since I’m adult and it’s totally fine for me to have overnight guests.” He sighed. “I half wanted to put on a show for him and half just wanted to be somewhere else.”

Ignis felt shame curl in his stomach. Here he was feeling sorry for himself over a silly crush when Gladio was dealing with this. “You’re welcome here any time. Truly. Please feel … at home, as it were.”

“Thank, Ignis,” Gladio said. “I might actually take you up on that. I think I’m in love with your mattress.”

By the time Ignis recovered from that roller coaster of a sentence, Gladio had settled down in earnest. His breathing evened out within ten minutes. Ignis lay awake far longer, basking in his heat and watching his back rise and fall beneath the duvet.

\---------

Gladio’s phone alarm went off at seven o’clock in the morning.

“Damn,” he said, fumbling to silence it. “Sorry. Forgot to turn it off.”

“Ts’all right,” Ignis said, dragging himself awake. “Early to rise …”

“It’s Saturday,” Gladio groaned, collapsing back onto his pillow. “I didn’t actually have to be anywhere.”

Ignis blinked slowly, chasing the bleariness from his eyes. Gladio’s dark hair was wild from sleep. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, filling the room with gentle light that touched the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, the angles of his face. Gladio was often beautiful, but this was altogether different from when he stood polished in his formal suit. This was … intimate.

Gladio heaved a sigh. “My dad’ll definitely be up, so I guess I should split. Even though this bed is heaven.”

“Well, you don’t have to run off. In fact, when you think about it” Ignis said, which was apparently how he was going to dig the hole in which he would inevitably bury himself, “it would be far more realistic if you stayed a while.”

“How so?”

“Today is your day off. And last night you were sparring quite late. You were completely exhausted. Both of which are things your father knows.”

“And?”

“And I hardly think you’d be springing out of bed at the crack of dawn if you had the opportunity to … lie in, let’s say, with your boyfriend.”

Gladio squinted at Ignis across the plane of his pillow. He seemed … tentatively hopeful. “I don’t want to hog your morning.”

“Please, it’s no imposition at all. I didn’t have any plans.” Which was true, because vacuuming his fake plants and color-coding the last six weeks’ worth of council minutes could never be considered plans. “Really, just go back to sleep.”

“Well … don’t mind if I do.” Gladio settled back into the bedding like a satisfied cat, his smile doing something very strange in Ignis’ chest.

Ignis made to rise, but a calloused hand circled around his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The kitchen,” Ignis said patiently. “To put the coffee on.”

“Ignis, if there’s anyone in the entire Crown City who could use some extra shuteye, it’s you. Besides, if you leave, who’ll keep me warm while I get my beauty rest?”

“That is actually the specific function of a duvet,” Ignis said, but he obeyed without further protest. He was hardly about to squander the opportunity to lie with Gladio a little longer.

The deeper he allowed himself to fall, the worse it would be when he hit the bottom. Ignis knew that. He also knew he’d have plenty of time to torture himself after all was said and done. He may as well get what enjoyment he could out of the descent.

“I will eventually need to rise to make us breakfast.”

“Eventually,” Gladio mumbled. “Means ‘not yet’.”

Ignis vowed to stay awake, to savor the feeling of Gladio’s feet pressed lazily against his shins, the weight of his hand loose on Ignis’ wrist where he’d left it after Ignis acquiesced. But their shared warmth and Gladio’s rhythmic breathing pulled Ignis under. He drowsed, half-waking every so often when Glaidio shifted or mumbled in his sleep.

It was during one of these wakeful moments that Ignis realized they’d crept together. His face was near Gladio’s chest, and Gladio’s breath ruffled his hair on each exhale. The smart part of his brain screamed at him to get up now, to withdraw to the other room before Gladio woke up.

The foolish part won out, though, and Ignis let himself rest his forehead against the taut fabric of Gladio’s sleep shirt. Just for a moment.

The next time he was aware, Gladio’s arm was draped over him and he was sort of pawing at Ignis’ shoulder. “S’it time for breakfast?” Gladio said into the pillow.

Ignis was suddenly wide awake, his heart attempting to climb out of his throat. They were far too close to one another. He resisted the impulse to fling himself backward off the bed, which would only call more attention to the transgression. He tried to carefully ease himself out of Gladio’s grip.

“Mmm,” Gladio said petulantly, tightening his arm around Ignis. Holding him close. Then he shot up, yanking himself away, eyes wide with horror. “Oh, wow, sorry Ignis. Guess I’m a grabby sleeper.”

Ignis’ heart was pounding, his entire body a live wire. This was his chance distance himself. To let Gladio reinforce the boundary between them. He ought to nod, accept the apology quietly, and slink away.

“It's perfectly all right,” he said instead. "You're pleasantly warm yourself." Then, unable to remain in the room and face any of the myriad possible reactions to that response, Ignis stood and hurried – subtly – across the hall to the bathroom.

If he remained there a good deal longer than he normally did … well, Gladio could hardly know that, could he?

Then he went out to the kitchen, prepared the coffee, and set about making pancakes. He had some fresh blueberries in the refrigerator, which would suit them perfectly. The familiar rhythm of cooking settled his singing nerves well enough that when Gladio emerged from the bedroom, he felt confident he could maintain the appropriate level of distance for the duration of this interaction.

“If the accommodations come with a perfect mattress _and_ a gourmet breakfast, I don’t know how you get anyone to leave,” Gladio said, serving himself a cup of coffee.

“I’d hardly call a few pancakes a gourmet breakfast.” Ignis gave the batter a final stir and poured the first pancake into the pan. “Are blueberries all right with you?”

“Course.”

Ignis sprinkled the berries into the wet batter to cook in.

Gladio leaned his hip against the counter beside Ignis. “Look,” he said, worrying his mug. “Sorry again about before. It’s not what this is, and I didn’t mean to … put you in a weird spot.”

Ignis’ hard-won composure evaporated immediately. “As I said before … it’s really quite all right. I doubt it was all your doing. It’s … I was more concerned for your sake, actually. The entire point of this exercise is to allow you to avoid such situations.”

Gladio shook his head. “That was fine. It’s … like you said, actually. Touch can be nice on its own. It’s just sex I’m not into.”

“I see.” The thought, the memory, of _touching_ Gladio, of being pressed close to his strong chest … Ignis shook himself mentally, then focused all his concentration on flipping the pancake without flinging it across the kitchen. His form was well below par, but he got it in the pan. “So you’d simply rather skip directly to the cuddling.”

“Huh.” Gladio nursed his coffee thoughtfully. “Could be.”

Ignis slid the pancake onto Gladio’s plate and poured the next one. While that set up he swiped butter across the finished one. “You can eat as I go or wait for the stack.”

“You’d really let me eat your fancy pancakes one at a time like an animal?”

“I told you,” Ignis said, unable to keep the smile off his face, “they’re just pancakes. This is a casual lie in.” He extracted a fork from the silverware drawer and passed it to him.

“In that case.” Gladio set the fork on the counter. He picked up the pancake, folded it in half butter-side in, and tore it in two.

“What are you …” Ignis’ question was interrupted by the pancake Gladio held up to his lips.

“What?” Gladio asked. “I’m not gonna stand here eating by myself while you slave over a hot stove.”

Powerless to do anything else, Ignis took a bite of the folded-over pancake. A blueberry burst in his mouth, sweet and hot. The butter was rich on his tongue. His face was burning and there was a terrible look of mischief in Gladio’s eyes, which never left Ignis even as he took a gigantic bite out of own portion. Eventually Ignis had to swallow the pancake, which meant he had no excuse not to speak.

“An unorthodox approach,” he managed. He took the pancake out of Gladio’s hand – because as tempting as it was to let Gladio feed him the rest, he couldn’t be certain of his conduct if Gladio’s butter-slick fingers got too close to his lips, and he did still possess one single shred of sanity. Ignis took another bite.

Then he had to drop the remainder on the plate and scramble for the spatula before the pancake in the pan burned.

When the second one came out, Ignis buttered it studiously. After only a moment’s hesitation, he folded it over just as Gladio had done and tore it down the middle. He offered Gladio half.

Gladio took it with a wide grin. “I’m a pancake genius.”

“It’s uniquely equitable, I’ll admit.”

They went through eight pancakes in that unbearably intimate way, until Ignis was overfull and simply could not continue. Gladio had the ninth to himself. Ignis, in a rare fit of sloth, did only the most essential washing up and retreated to the sofa with a fresh cup of coffee to recover. Instead of leaving, as Ignis assumed he would, Gladio joined him.

“Man,” Gladio sighed, relaxing into what had already become his end of the couch. “I could eat those pancakes for breakfast every morning.”

_You could_ , Ignis thought. _I’d make them for you gladly, if you let me fall asleep with your arms around me every night._

Ignis slumped down against the sofa cushion, pressed his warm mug to his forehead, and wondered if it would be possible to determine at precisely what point in this endeavor he had lost his entire mind.

\---------

It was a week later when things finally came to a head.

It had been an almost relaxed Friday at the Citadel, and Ignis was going to be able to go home early. Well, on time, really, but that was early for him. So without thinking (which in all fairness was how he had conducted himself from the very beginning of this ill-advised charade), Ignis smiled and drew out his phone.

<<Come over

>>what, just to hang?

Ignis' heart dropped. How careless. He'd ... forgotten. Forgotten that it wasn’t real.

He desperately tried to think of a recovery. Perhaps a work matter. Something to do with Noct. A meeting to plan their next public appearance ...

>>sure, cya at 730

Ignis re-read the brief conversation three times to make certain he hadn't missed something.

<<I'll have dinner waiting

\---------

Even the knowledge that he was not actually in a warm, loving relationship did nothing to dampen Ignis’ spirits in anticipation of spending the evening with Gladio. There was something resembling a spring in step as he made the short walk to his apartment from the Citadel, and on impulse he stopped in a little shop to get a box of assorted petit fours for dessert. That they had a sale going on sparkling wine seemed like a stroke of serendipity. Then, as he was signing to confirm the purchase, the clerk had wished him and his _sweetheart_ a pleasant evening.

The stylus in his hand slashed madly across the touchscreen. Ignis tried to convince himself that digital signatures were often messy. Somewhere, deep in his love-addled heart, he knew the truth.

But he’d already bought the ridiculous indulgences, so he saw little reason not to serve them. If Gladio teased him about it … Ignis would be able to ride the euphoria for days.

Ignis was in well over his head now, and he planned to press on until he drowned.

For dinner Ignis prepared a beef tenderloin with a cranberry wine sauce and potatoes au gratin. The cheese of the au gratin was a risk, but he hoped Gladio would be receptive to some heartier fare on a chilly Friday evening.

He needn’t have worried. Gladio arrived just as the potatoes were coming out of the oven, and he could barely be restrained while Ignis sliced the meat.

“If I had known it would be this easy to get you to cook delicious food for me I would’ve started taking you to parties a lot sooner,” Gladio said.

“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” Ignis said, trying not to smile like the fool he was.

“I can smell it. It’s gonna be perfect.”

“It won’t be perfect if you drool on it before it reaches the table,” Ignis replied, ladling the rich red cranberry sauce over the platter of sliced tenderloin.

“Don’t really see the point in making it look like a magazine cover if we’re gonna dig into it in thirty seconds and mess it up,” Gladio griped as Ignis carried the food to the table.

“For pride and accomplishment,” Ignis said. “And though it’s not why I did it … you could Insomnigram it if you wished.”

The enthusiasm drained from Gladio’s face. “Right. Not tonight. Nothing personal, it looks great, just …”

“Don’t worry on my account,” Ignis said. “I _personally_ think food is better eaten than displayed.”

“Really.” Gladio eyed the carefully plated serving dishes skeptically. His good humor seemed to be returning.

“Yes, really. Though if you’d rather gaze at it without eating, you’re of course more than welcome.”

That got Gladio in his chair quickly. The food turned out to be as delicious as it smelled, if Ignis did say so himself, and they chatted and laughed and regaled one another with anecdotes about their respective weeks. And when Gladio announced that he was stuffed and then immediately inquired as to what was for dessert, Ignis revealed the petit fours and sparkling wine with only slight trepidation.

Gladio did not tease him about them. Gladio grinned, which made Ignis feel warm from head to toe even before the cork popped on the wine.

They migrated to the sofa, bringing the bottle and the box of miniatures to the coffee table so they could consume them at their leisure. They sat close – not touching, but close – and it wasn’t the doing of one or the other of them. It was a mutual accord. Ignis selected a brown-colored treat from the assortment and bit it in half. Tiramisu, he learned, as the richness of coffee filled his mouth, cut by light, sweet cream.

“Chocolate orange,” Gladio announced, having popped his into his mouth whole. “Incredible. Great idea, Iggy.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying them.”

They sipped their bubbly wine, and each had another petit four, and a curious silence spun out between them.

“So … there’s something I guess I should tell you,” Gladio said. He seemed … hesitant, almost. Reluctant.

“Well … go ahead, then,” Ignis said, when it appeared Gladio wasn’t going to continue without prompting.

“When I got home from your place last weekend, my dad was waiting. But he didn’t, like, clap me on the back and congratulate me on becoming a man, or whatever. He sat me down and said he was worried he’d been acting weird about everything. That he’d maybe been pushing me more than he should have. He said he’d just wanted me to take the dating stuff seriously, because my mom meant the world to him, and she made him _so_ happy, and he …” Gladio cleared his throat. “He wanted me to be that happy too. So he wanted to know … if you were really good for me. If you made me happy.”

Ignis somehow maintained a placid expression, even though the words tripping out of Gladio’s mouth felt like ice in his chest.

“And I guess that was the last straw, because I told him everything. About the whole … no-sex thing, and how it kind of makes it weird to date. I told him you were just covering for me, just a good friend. And he’s sad for me, I guess, that it’ll be hard for me to find someone, because who would ... whatever, but he was cool about it. He said he was gonna lay off. He really got it, I think, after I explained it to him. So … he and I are good.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ignis said. Wasn’t it? “I’m very happy for you. It’s just what you wanted, isn’t it? For him to stop pressuring you.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, subdued. “Exactly what I wanted. So … mission accomplished, I guess. Now I can get out of your hair.”

_Oh._ Oh. This was it, then. Ignis had been slow to put the pieces together, but it made perfect sense. Gladio’s problem was resolved, and their arrangement had reached its inevitable end.

To Ignis’ horror, hot tears began to form in his eyes.

He quickly rose to his feet. “Pardon me,” he said around his suddenly-aching throat, darting for the kitchen.

“Ignis?” Gladio’s voice followed him around the corner.

Ignis propped his elbows on the counter and wiped his eyes as they spilled over. What on earth was the matter with him?

Either he hadn’t fled fast enough or his voice had given him away, because Gladio appeared in the doorway. “Ignis … fuck, are you crying?”

“No. No, no, no,” Ignis said, even though he was clearly lying. He scrubbed furiously at his face.

Gladio moved toward him, and Ignis took a half step away. Gladio’s brow furrowed. “What’s happening, Iggy? What’s the problem?”

Ignis shook his head violently. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m simply … tired. It’s been a long week. I apologize.”

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize,” Gladio said. A strange look passed over his face. “Did I do something?”

“No! No. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Please, think nothing of it.”

“How am I supposed to think nothing of it? You’re upset.”

Ignis bumped into the far counter. Gladio had him cornered. “Just … please. It really is nothing of import. I’m sorry to disrupt a pleasant evening. Go on and enjoy our dessert. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Gladio hesitated, and for a moment Ignis thought he might escape this folly of a non-relationship with a sliver of his dignity intact. Then Gladio squared his shoulders. “Ignis, I’m not gonna go eat bonbons and drink champagne while you stand here crying into a dish towel.”

“Sparkling wine. Technically it’s only champagne if it comes from the Champagne region of Tenebrae.”

Gladio stared at him like he’d gone mad.

“You’re meant to laugh,” Ignis said unsteadily, wiping at his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing.” Gladio slid into his personal space. “I’m serious, Ignis, do you not want to tell me because it has something to do with me? Am I such a shitty fake boyfriend that I made you want to cry?”

“No. _No_. Gladio, you’ve been …” Ignis stopped. It was clear he would have to confess the truth. He couldn’t leave Gladio thinking he’d done something wrong. He didn’t deserve that.

Gladio slowly curled his hands over Ignis’ shoulders. He squeezed gently, in reassurance. “Whatever it is, just spit it out. I’m here for you, all right? And if it’s my fault, I want to fix it.”

Ignis swallowed. He didn’t have it in him to watch this revelation play across Gladio’s face, so he stared at his collarbone. “The fault truly does lie with me. I have … grown inappropriately attached to our arrangement.”

Gladio’s hands clenched. “What?”

“I know, I know, it’s just another foolishness on my part. But when you announced that our act had, quite naturally, run its course, I simply … had an unwarranted reaction. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable. That was never my wish. I would have, _should_ have kept it from you entirely. I hope you’ll accept my deepest apologies.”

“No,” Gladio said. “Ignis. What do you mean ‘attached’?”

Ignis looked to the ceiling, willing a few straggling tears back into the ether they came from. “I mean that I wish our relationship was not merely pretend.”

Gladio stared at him. His face was making shapes, but Ignis couldn’t read them. “I gotta sit down for this,” he finally said. Then Ignis was alone in the kitchen.

He should never have allowed things to get this far. Not when he knew Gladio wouldn’t want such attention. Ignis had been unable – unwilling – to govern his heart, and he’d been careless with Gladio as a result. He’d ruined what had grown between them.

Now he would have to hear Gladio reject him to his face.

There was no use putting it off. Ignis shook himself and marched back into the living room to face the music.

Gladio wasn’t sitting on the sofa. He was pacing in front of it, and he rounded on Ignis the moment he appeared. “Ignis, you’re an amazing guy. You’re hot and smart and a fricking incredible cook and … I dunno what you’re feeling that’s got you willing to settle, but you don’t actually want to be in a relationship with me.”

That … sounded remarkably unlike ‘I’m appalled by your brazen disregard for my personal boundaries’. And Gladio was practically vibrating with an agitation that did not at all resemble the distant disappointment Ignis had expected.

Ignis approached him carefully. “I … Settle? Gladio, I’ve been laboring under the impression that you aren’t interested in that sort of relationship. If … if I’m wrong, you will have to tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“What I want is … fucking ridiculous, okay? I’m talking about what you want. And you want …” Gladio scowled, but not at Ignis. It seemed as though he was scowling at himself. “Ignis, I’m never going to want to have sex with you.”

“That's not what I want from you either. Not primarily.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To laugh over brunch and mimosas. To wake up and make pancakes and lie in. To ...” He cut off.

“To what?” Gladio’s face was a mask.

Ignis had gone too far to hold anything back “I want to fall asleep in someone’s arms. I want to come home to someone in my apartment, and have someone come home to me, so I’m not quite so alone.”

“Someone.”

“You. I want it to be you. I ... sharing such closeness with you over the course of this charade has made me feel happier than I have in quite some time."

Gladio did not respond. He rubbed his hands across his face and left them there. Concealing his features so Ignis couldn’t read his reaction.

"If everything has been an act on your part,” Ignis found himself saying, “I could hardly blame you. That was the agreement."

“No.” Gladio grabbed Ignis by the arms. “I've ... Ignis, I can’t be enough for you. At some point I’m not gonna be able to give what you want and you're gonna be unhappy.”

Ignis laughed, almost hysterically. “I want all sorts of things. Tenebraen truffles. To swim in the sea at dawn. An Altissian massage. I can certainly be happy without them.”

“That's not the same thing and you know it.”

“My hand has met all my essential needs so far, and I don't see why it shouldn't continue to serve perfectly well. And if at some point it doesn’t … we’ll work something out.”

“You're serious.”

“I'm frightfully serious when it comes you.”

Gladio stared down at Ignis helplessly. Even in the plain light of Ignis’ apartment, his eyes were such a beautiful color.

“Please do say something,” Ignis said. “One way or another. I may die from the uncertainty.”

“You mean, do I want to be with you for real?”

“Is that not what we've been talking about?” Ignis felt a little lightheaded. He didn't know if he could articulate anything further.

Gladio guided him down onto the sofa. “Yeah. Yes. Yes, Ignis, definitely yes. Take a breath.”

Ignis obeyed, breathing in and out precisely once. “Is that ‘yes’ as in …”

“Six, as in ‘yes I want to date you’, you neurotic bastard.”

Ignis looked up at Gladio, a strange molten joy growing inside him. “Frankly, I’m still getting mixed signals.”

Gladio growled, but when he parsed the giddy smile on Ignis’ face he collapsed against him with a grunt. “So that’s how it’s gonna be.”

“Yes, I’m afraid my personality is set in permanently by now. And since you don’t even want me for my body, there’s nothing to mitigate it.”

Gladio snorted. “That’s okay. I think you’re funny.” He worked one arm around Ignis’ shoulders and spread his other hand across Ignis’ chest. “This okay?”

“Yes.” It felt warm and close and made his head spin. Ignis lay a hand over the one on his heart, gently tangling their fingers. “Is this all right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Huh, so I can just …” Gladio tugged Ignis close against his chest and held him there, much the same way he had that first night they’d spent together on the Citadel’s front steps. Only this was far, far better, because it was real.

“Yes,” Ignis said. “Whenever you like. As often as possible.”

“Noted.” Gladio’s voice rumbled under Ignis’ ear, soothing every nerve in his body. “Want another bonbon?”

“Only if I don’t have to move at all to accomplish it.” Ignis was losing himself in the feeling of Gladio’s soft flannel shirt against his face.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come to you.” Gladio’s hand extricated itself from Ignis’ chest.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, but I’m not about to push my luck.” Gladio leaned forward, returning with a pink petit four. “Can’t pretend to get it, though. My best feature is my shredded body, and you don’t even get to enjoy it the way you probably want.”

“First of all, I’m deeply offended on your body’s behalf. I’m getting a great deal of enjoyment out of it right now. You’re wonderfully firm. More importantly … you’re mistaken. Your body isn’t your best feature.”

Gladio squinted down at him in puzzlement.

“You surprise me, Gladio. Constantly. And I’ve no taste for surprises in most circumstances, but when I’m with you … I’m always delighted.”

Gladio’s expression was suddenly serious as he put the petit four to Ignis’ mouth. Ignis bit through the sugary fondant, his lips brushing the tips of Gladio’s calloused fingers. A delicate floral flavor greeted him. “Cherry blossom,” Ignis announced.

Gladio popped the other half into his own mouth. “Real sweet.”

Somehow Ignis didn’t think he meant the dessert.

“You sure this is what you want, Ignis?” Gladio gathered him close, tucking his head gently underneath his chin. “Just this?”

Ignis slid his hand up to rest on Gladio’s shoulder and let himself relax deeper into his arms. The strength of him lent Ignis a profound peace.  “This is what I want. Precisely, exactly this.”

“Good. Me too.” Gladio suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just realized … my dad’s gonna get whiplash from this.”

Ignis imagined the mighty Clarus Amicitia trying to conceal his bewilderment, gamely nodding along with this latest development. He had to bury his face in Gladio’s shoulder to hide his smile.

(Then Ignis imagined himself calling on the Amicitia estate to get to know Gladio’s family in earnest, and the situation didn’t seem quite so lighthearted.)

**Author's Note:**

> Iggy will be fine.  
> Gladio: “Would you like to stay for dinner?”  
> Clarus, from the other room: _“Would you like to stay forever?”_
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. <3
> 
> Always feel free to come talk to me over on tumblr [@carolyncaves](https://carolyncaves.tumblr.com/).


End file.
